This has to be my most viewed story I've put on here. The SOA fandom has been the most welcoming to me so far. Thank you all for taking the time to read this fic and for giving me feedback through reviews. The next update might be a ways away. I have two Law tests at the end of this week and i'm going to see Norman Reedus next weekend at another local Uni. I also wanted to let you know that Thatch is a character I've been writing into most of my stories (fanfiction or not) for the past six years. His history is only tweaked a little for each one. if you watch The Walking Dead he might appear in the fanfic idea I've got in my head. anyway, enough rambling.
General disclaimer- I own nothing but my OC's.
"Get out."
He watched as the crow eater struggled to stand with a slight sigh. He cleared his throat, tossed his covers off to the side and stood over the petite girl. A deep growl rumbled out from his chest as his hand shuffled for a pack of Marlboro Reds and his Zippo on the nightstand. She knew. Just like all the others before her. They had no chance. No chance of rising up to Old lady status with him.
He lit two and slammed the pack back onto the stand beside his glass ash tray. He smiled fondly at the misshapen fogged glass. His brother had made it for him after he'd burned a hole through his old cloth protector on his seventeenth birthday. The smile quickly faded and his mind drew back to the Mayan prospect that had stood over the boy's dead body.
To the mirror. His mind was awfully sarcastic that morning. Right. His eyes glanced to the marble sink below the stained glass. I forgot to take my crazy pills. His large, marred hands struggled to open the medicine cabinet propped against the wall. How many weeks had it been since he ripped it off?
He hissed as one of his cigarettes burned through the filter and lightly burned his upper lip. Guess it's a good thing I shaved.
"Thatch?" He gently rested his head on the space where the cabinet used to be. His head throbbed with the beginnings of a dull hangover and his throat burned from taking his pills dry. He swiped his bangs out of his face and cupped a hand underneath the ancient faucet. "You awake, Boy?"
"Ja," His right hand felt around for the button of his black jeans. He turned and met his President's gaze. "I just got up though, Bill."
The middle aged man chuckled and snatched Thatch's Marlboros before he could protest. Thatch stood in near awkwardness over the man as grey eyes scanned over his half naked form. "Crow eater barely made a dent."
Both men laughed loudly until Bill suffered through another one of his usual coughing jags. Thatch eased open the sliding glass door beside his bathroom and led the man out.
"You have to stop." Thatch motioned to the pack Bill had placed on the iron patio table. His arm crossed over the diameter of the table to light the other man's cigarette. "These things will kill you."
"Liver cancer ain't teachin me how to river dance, Boy." He smiled at Thatch with his few remaining teeth. "And the chewing tobbaca is keepin my teeth pearly white."
Thatch shook his head and flicked the ash from his cigarette into a watering pail overflowing with cigarette butts. "What did you really want to talk about Old Man?"
Although the smiled had faded from his face, it still remained in his eyes. "I don't have much time left Boy," He paused and glanced out across the brown lawn, "You and I both know that." He stubbed his cigarette out on his boot and flicked it into the pail, "I wanted you to know that I trust you. You can lead this charter away from all the shit I dragged it into."
Thatch let the rest of his cigarette burn between his fingers. "You did what you thought was right and I backed you in all of those decisions." He clicked the top of his Zippo a few times.
"Not all of them." A frail hand caught his and dropped the Zippo to the table. "I only have a few more rides left in me. A month I'd say to live." Bill glanced away for a moment to calm himself. "My decision with the Mayans is what put all this shit between us, Milo." He cleared his throat and watched as Thatch's blue eyes lingered on the older man's wrinkled face. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for all of that. All the people you've lost because of my mistakes…"
"I still have the club." Thatch's voice rumbled and effectively cut Bill off. "Aiden will come back in due time." A small smirk stretched across his face. "But Bill… I already forgave you a long time ago."
Aiden shielded her eyes from the mid-morning sun with the back of her burned left hand. Juice stopped leading her for a moment and turned to face her.
"I think he has sun glasses in the inside pocket." He patted his chest to show her where and she nodded in thanks. "I thought you were dead." He quickly tried to rephrase but she shook her head and smiled.
"I was thinking the same thing." She smiled sadly as looked down at her bare feet and made a mental note to ask for shoes before she left the lot. "Thank you for…"
Juice glanced down at the girl. She was just barely over five foot four without her shoes on. He watched as she struggled to find words. "It's not a problem." She nodded, relieved that he'd helped her off that awkward hook. "Chibs is out right now but I've been ordered to bring you to Gemma."
They walked the rest of the way to the Teller-Morrow office in silence. Aiden nearly sighed in relief. She'd never been the one for talking or pretty much any social interaction.
"You must be Aiden." Juice motioned for her to step towards the older brunette and headed back towards the open garage. "My son, Jackson and his Old Lady told me about you." Aiden reached out and shook Gemma's hand with a weak grip, a fact the older woman noticed immediately. "Have you eaten anything?" She shook her head no and tried to grasp for a hood to cover her not quite bald head. She shrunk back into the office as a brown bearded man approached.
"Is Clay around?" He turned to Gemma after giving Aiden a polite smile. He said nothing as she continued to back into the office.
"He's out with Jax." Gemma motioned for the man to remove his black beanie and he stepped closer to hand it to Aiden. "This is Opie." She moved away which left Aiden completely exposed to Opie's outstretched hand.
"She shouldn't leave the garage Gemma," He watched as Aiden slowly crouched down and grasped the edge of the beanie with her right hand. "She's still terrified."
Gemma frowned as Aiden slipped the extra-large beanie onto her scalp. "I don't blame her."
"I'm sorry." Aiden whispered as she slinked back to the desk in the office. "This is just a lot to process…"
Gemma nodded and closed the office door once Opie left. "No one in this club is going to hurt you." She gently rested her hand on the girl's left cheek. "But this fear is from more than just the shooting." Aiden bit her lip and slipped into a pair of flip flops she'd spotted on the floor. "Come on hon, I'll take you into town for something to eat."
Thatch stood on the spacious front porch and watched as the remaining club members made their way off his property. Bill sat on the white porch swing and moved to make space for him. He had far too many worries bouncing around in his brain to handle. The only man he truly had left was dying right before his eyes. It killed him inside.
"Can I ask you something?" Bill whispered as Thatch lit up his seventh cigarette of the day. "What happened between you and Aiden?"
His blood cooled and his scarred right hand started to tremble. "I became my father for a night" He could almost taste the vomit threatening to force its way up. "The night I broke my hand I slapped her." The front lawn had maintained some green and the tall pine trees that hid the clubhouse from the road masked the cracked asphalt drive. "Well… I did much more than that."
Bill waited. He always listened when his VP spoke about his father. The man had nearly killed his children by setting their house on fire. He locked them all in a closet and shot himself in the master bedroom. The fact his stoic VP ever admitted any of his past to him was a miracle. He turned and took in the sight of Thatch's head cradled in his palms, his cigarette burned in between his index and middle finger. He rested his thin boney hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"I've tried my whole life not to be like him." The raven haired man sat up and took another drag. "And in one moment all of my self-control left." His right hand gestured to the lawn in front of him. "I almost killed her, Bill." He coughed and gasped. "I almost fucking killed her." Years of suppressed tears streamed down the VP's face. "I lied earlier." Thatch choked, "She'll never come back." He put his cigarette out with the heel of his combat boot. "I beat her face in… raped her… Jesus Christ Bill." He stood up and turned to the man who had saved his life. "What the fuck is wrong with me?!"
Aiden picked at her plate of fries before Gemma brought her across the street to Floyd's to shave her head. The older man didn't question her and mostly talked to Gemma for the ten minutes it took to cut off the patches of hair. She was glad to leave and return to the garage once she put her beanie back on.
"Clay will be there when we get back." She hung up her phone and rested it on the dash of her car. "Chibs will be there too sweetheart."
She nodded and removed Chibs' sunglasses once the came closer to the grey entry gate. "Thanks of taking me out Gemma." The other woman pulled of her own sunglasses as she pulled into the lot. "I needed to get some fresh air."
Chibs jogged to the car and opened the door for her while Clay helped Gemma out of the other side. She squeezed the Scotsman's gloved hand once and allowed him to lead her back towards the clubhouse.
She hoped he couldn't hear the calming breaths she took as they approached the Redwood table. Gemma stopped before the doorway and gave her one last look before Clay shut the door from the inside.
